


(TAKE ME) TO HIGHER GROUND

by centralperks



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Bars, Dancing, F/M, Music, while Tessa is away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 18:08:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18393641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/centralperks/pseuds/centralperks
Summary: prior to your denim cutoffs on the porch,prior to my notes and your notesand before your name became a pulsing star,before all thisah, safer and smoother and smaller was my heart.(Before, Mark Halliday)---Scott and the one hundred ways in which the heart on his sleeve is redeemed.Companion piece to THIS IS MY EVEREST.





	(TAKE ME) TO HIGHER GROUND

**Author's Note:**

> You don't have to read Everest to understand this piece, but you can if you'd like :)

As a child, Scott didn’t know how to sit still. That’s what his mother told him. “You didn’t know how to sit still,” she’d tell him. “You always had to be moving. Drove me crazy. I don’t know how it didn’t drive Tessa crazy.” 

Looking back, he doesn’t know how it didn’t drive Tessa crazy, either. In big social groups he was right in the middle, adding colour to the noise, laughing and joking. The thing was, Scott just liked people. He just liked being with them, and talking to them, and having fun. He liked being in the action, and moving at 100 miles an hour was something that came naturally to him. This was part of the reason he loved skating so much – he could go twice as fast on blades as he could with his runners. 

When he was ten, he remembers zipping around the rink with his hockey friends, heart pounding in his chest, cheeks flushed. He’d nearly tripped over his boots before spotting Tessa by the boards and zooming towards her. 

He and Tessa were just starting to talk, and he tried to tug her into a race, which she refused. But she gave him a brilliant smile, and he stayed awhile while his heartbeat slowed. 

He’d given her a grin, knocking his fist against her arm when he couldn’t think of anything else to say, but he still wanted to talk. “Nicky nicky nine doors,” he’d called, “let me in, Tess!” 

She’d narrowed her eyes a little. “That’s not how it goes, Scott. After you say nicky nicky nine doors, you’re supposed to ditch the door you’re knocking on.” 

Oh. Stupid Danny and Charlie. He’d flushed, but shrugged. “Whatever,” he’d said, “we can make up a new rule then.” 

She’d smiled. “Nicky nicky nine doors,” tapping on his elbow, “let me in.” 

It became a question and an invitation; a standing at the door and seeking permission to enter. 

When he was eighteen, he went to an event with Tessa – a gala, or something, he doesn’t remember. He remembered laughing and joking, he was pretty sure Charlie was there.

He’d gotten thirsty after awhile, and went in search of his table where the water was located. Tessa was sitting there, talking with someone, he didn’t remember whom. He found his water glass beside her seat next to his, gulping it down quickly. Her hand found his back, delicate bracelets jangling from her wrist, without interrupting her conversation. 

He had finished his water and was pouring himself a second glass before Tessa turned to him. “Slow down, fish,” she’d laughed, hand brushing the expanse of back. 

He’d grinned around his water glass, looking into her clear, green eyes. “Nicky nicky nine doors. Doing okay?” 

She’d nodded and smiled brilliantly before dropping her hand. “Great. Go have fun.” 

He’d left feeling refreshed, from the water and by Tessa.

And after that, in a million and one crowds that they weathered together, in the midst of being the life and soul of the party, he would seek out Tessa for a moment of water, her presence steadying him. Later on he’d realize she’d steady him in more ways than this one. 

\---------

Tessa had told him she was going to Nepal, and Malaysia, and the next day he broke up with Amy. 

The events were truly unrelated. But Amy had been a second thought, and he was tired of having second thoughts. It was his shortest relationship to date. It lasted one month and two days, and he wasn’t very sorry to see her go. 

\--------

Essentially, what Scott wanted was a drink, something warm and sharp, and an evening alone. Essentially, this is what he got. 

The night was beginning to grow weary, the clock reflecting a late hour. He found a drink and a spot at the wooden bar, the atmosphere dark and dim, which suited him just fine. A band was on stage, eclectic looking and around his age. The electric guitar played crooned into the microphone, shoulder length hair swinging. He sang with sincerity, without pretense. 

His scotch was growing warm as the band closed, and they began to pack up their instruments. People filtered out of the bar, the bartender wiping down the counters with a rag, and Scott was content to watch the band wrap cords until they kicked him out. 

“Hey,” said a voice near him, “do you always sit alone and watch people put away instruments?” 

He turned, coming face to face with a girl. She had an impish grin, head cocked to the side as she twirled a metal contraption around her finger. Her nose ring glinted under the light as she awaited his response. 

“Um,” he said. 

She didn’t wait for more of an answer before pushing off the bar and handing the contraption to Electric Guitar Player on the stage. “Here, Teej,” he heard her say, “I found an extra capo in the back of the truck. Put it with the rest of your stuff or else it’ll get lost.” She ripped cables out from the keyboard, wrapping them around her arm as she made her back to Scott. 

“Margo,” she said, sticking out her hand, nails painted aqua blue. Her stacks of silver rings were cool against his fingers.

“Scott,” he replied, gripping her hand. She slid onto the barstool next to him, still wrapping her cables. 

“Do you live around here?” Normally he would think this sort of line was a come on, but she asked so casually, words slipped through her mouth like marbles, focusing on her wrapping. 

“Yes,” he replied, “do you?”

Margo shook her head. “Nah,” she answered, “we’re touring a bunch of small venues; this is one of our first stops. I’d tell you I like where you live, but it’s too cold for me.” 

“You’re not from around here, then?”

She shook her head. “We’re west coasters through and through. I couldn’t imagine living way out on the east. We’ve got rain, but the mountains are unbeatable and there’s nothing like the Pacific.” 

“You’re from Vancouver?”

“Yeah, born and raised. You ever been?”

Scott started to respond, before Electric Guitar Man called out from the stage, “Gogo, are you helping or hindering?”

“I’m wrapping, TJ, leave me be,” she snarked, holding up her cables. “It’s more than you do every night.” 

The man named TJ just grinned. “We’re leaving in ten, okay? I’ll wheel your keyboard into the bus.” 

“What was I saying – oh yeah. Vancouver. Have you ever been?”

Scott nodded, “yeah, a few times. Loved it.” He omitted the information that he had won his first Olympic gold medal in that city; somehow he didn’t feel like being Scott the ice dancer for a night. He wasn’t sure a bunch of musicians would really care that much anyways. 

“Worth a trip back,” said Margo, stepping down from her barstool gracelessly. “Wanna meet the band?” She didn’t give him much of an option as she plucked the scotch from his hand and set it on the bar; for lack of a better thing to do with his hands he stuck them in his pockets as he followed her to the small stage. 

“This is Scott,” Margo said to the group at large, “Scott who I just met. Scott, this is everyone.” 

TJ gave his hand a firm shake, dark green plaid shirt and boots making him look like an exact replica of everyone Scott had ever met in Vancouver. “Good to meet you, man.” 

A petite woman was tearing down the drum kit, lavender hair brushing her shoulders as she give him a friendly a smile. “Sorry you met Margo first,” she said, “I promise we’re a lot cooler than she is,” and Margo huffed beside him. “My name’s Ellis.”

A man putting away a bass introduced himself as Dez, before Margo was saying, “listen, we’ve got another show at midnight at a bar not far from here – you want to come?”

Scott hesitated. He didn’t know these people, and he was tired, and pizza from that 24 shop close to his house was starting to sound appealing. He wasn’t sure if Margo was extremely friendly, or if she wanted to sleep with him, and sleeping-with-Margo wasn’t part of his plans and not something he wanted to engage in for the evening.

As if reading his mind, Margo said bluntly, “I don’t want to sleep with you or anything. I just thought you might like some company, and to see some more music. Your call.” 

Her sharpness took him aback, but he found himself liking it, even appreciating it, so he said, “what the hell,” and followed them to a bar that looked similar to the one they had just vacated. 

Scott ordered a beer this time, and watched the band with more intent than he had the last time. Margo played easily, her fingers tripping smoothly up and down the keys. He regarded her, curly dark hair tucked into a messy knot at the nape of her neck as she harmonized with TJ in the microphone. 

_Got a smile to light up a country night_  
And I’m not telling you lies  
If you let me stay  
I might stay for the rest of my life 

He thought of Tess, for a moment, what she would think. It carried him away, TJ’s smooth voice filtering through the speakers, and he had to admit they were really, really good. He marveled for a moment at the skill of the musicians, to make inanimate objects sing and hum. His body on reflex wanted skates; he could feel the edges and lines in the music, could feel his torso react to the notes. 

His heart beat steadily from the place he wore it on his sleeve, blood pumping red and hot. Margo’s voice sounded like the colour burnt orange, the music sounded like how sunrise would feel if it could be worn under skin. 

They finished with a song that sounded familiar now that he had heard it twice, and he heard his name called as they packed up for the second time. “Scott,” called Margo, “come here and learn some piano.” 

“Pack your things up, Gogo,” said TJ teasingly, “and leave the poor man alone.” 

“Does she always just do whatever she wants?” Scott joked as he made his way up to the stage. Ellis rolled her eyes. “You don’t know the half of it.” 

But Margo’s energy was contagious, and she smelled like honey and something spicy as she leaned in to show him what each key meant.

“So this is C,” she said, pressing her thumb down, “and then D,” and after that all the letters jumbled, and he shook his head, lost. 

“I don’t know how you do it,” Scott replied, “it’s all Greek to me.”

Margo shrugged. “It’s easy once you know what you’re doing.” They fiddled for a while, laughing when Scott tried to play a chord. “Like this,” Margo said, pressing her fingers just so and singing a tune, her voice rich and throaty.

“You’ve got a great voice,” Scott commented, and she smiled a thank you. “Listen,” she said, “here’s my number,” and reached for his arm. Once again, Scott was surprised by her forwardness as she scratched out her number with a stray pen. “We’re in the area for about a week, so give me a call. We’ll hang out sometime.”

Essentially, what he got was a night with a band and a girl’s number. 

\--------

_He was so tired._

_His bones felt like lead inside his body, his head stuffed with cotton balls. His black suit jacket was still on, black tie still around his neck._

_The house had been crammed with people and condolences today, full of his mother saying, “Scott, can you run to the store and pick up,” and scrolling the grocery store and wasting time in the Pop Tart aisle to avoid going home._

_Tessa had been there, he knew that for sure, but he had hardly spoken to her. She had been in an appropriate black dress, expression stoic, helping his mother pack away food, skirting along the outside of his vision in smudges throughout the day. She had slipped out the door with last of the crowd, her eyes searching but not speaking._

_He collapsed on his childhood bed, too tired to go to his own house, fully intending to remove his suit but not finding the energy to begin. He toed off his shoes as he slid his hands under his pillow, lying on his stomach when his iPhone rang its standard song._

_Groaning, he lifted a hand to answer it from where it was on his bedside table, putting the caller on speakerphone._

_“Scott?”_

_It was Tessa’s voice, clear and calm._

_“Yeah,” he mumbled, eyes slipping closed._

_“Are you all right?”_

_He didn’t answer._

_“Do you want me to come over?”_

_He paused. “Yeah,” he replied, quietly. “I’m still at my parents.”_

_She hung up, and he was close to dreams when he heard the front door open and close, footsteps on the stairs before the door to his bedroom opened to let warm yellow light from the hallway slip through the crack._

_“Oh, Scott,” she said. He opened his eyes to regard her, in a sweater and leggings, eyebrows furrowed in concern. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have anything to say. He was tired._

_She tiptoed over to him, leaving the door opened a crack to let a little light in, and laid down right on top of him, her head pressed into his shoulder blades and her hands winding around his front in a hug. She was shorter than him, and so even with her head on his back, their feet lined up, and she pressed them into his._

_He closed his eyes again, hands moving up to clutch hers, comforted by the weight of her._

_They were quiet for a long while, breathing. Tessa’s breath was shorter than his, it always was, and she would exhale when he would inhale, like a see saw, like he was taking her breath when it felt like he couldn’t breathe on his own._

_“Nicky nicky nine doors,” she whispered after some time, warm breath ghosting his neck, and his nose began to burn._

_“Stay where you are, I’m going to roll over,” he said, moving his body and manouvering her like he’d been doing since he was twelve, until he was on his back, staring up at her._

_Her eyes were as familiar to him as his own. “Nicky nicky nine doors,” he said softly in response, and she pressed her forehead to his, winding her arms around him before settling her head into the crook of his neck._

\---------

“At 4:30?” 

It was Margo’s text to him, when she asked if he wanted to stop by their practice. He was at the rink until 4, and so he told her okay, and finished the rest of his day without thinking about it.  
On the drive over, an old John Legend song that made him think of Tess played, while he cranked the heat. He wondered if Nepal was warm, where she was. He wondered if she was in shorts and a t-shirt. He was freezing. 

The place where they were practicing was a garage in a suburban home, and he grinned. “This looks like a flashback to a high school movie,” he said as he entered, and Ellis laughed. 

“As a twenty eight year old, I might just start being offended by those comments,” she replied, in way of greeting, waving her drumstick. 

“It’s Dez’s parents place,” Margo replied from behind the keyboard as Scott made himself comfortable on an old couch, “we have a show tomorrow night so we thought we’d better get a little practice. We’re on our last song, and then we can hang out.” 

Scott shrugged as TJ tossed him a bottle of water, “sure, no rush.” Margo started a melody on the keys, and Scott recognized it as TJ began to sing, a slow, stripped down version of Faith by George Michael. 

The music felt raw, and unedited, and it stopped his breath for a moment. It plucked at his heartstrings, the sunrise under his skin rising, _well I guess it would be nice._

He applauded after they finished, TJ’s rough voice lingering. “That was sick, seriously,” and Margo grinned. 

“Diminish the G, TJ,” she said, as she played something that sounded crushed on the keys, “when you go back into the chorus, and then resolve. I think it might make it sound a little richer.” Scott had no idea what she was saying, but it still sounded great when they ran through it again. 

They finished and Ellis stood, stretching her back and offering him white popcorn from a bag while TJ and Margo plucked through an old Bon Jovi song, _thank you for loving me._ Ellis raised her hands to an invisible partner, stepping around Dez who had joined TJ and Margo and was laughing at Ellis. 

“Need a partner, El?” Dez asked. His voice was deep and calm, the first thing Scott had ever heard him say. 

“I can’t waltz,” Ellis whined, “I never learned.” 

“I’ll teach you,” Scott said, stepping out off the couch and reaching for her hand, “come here for a sec.” She looked at him questioningly, before slotting her arms tentatively around him. “Relax, Ellis,” Scott laughed, “I know what I’m doing, I swear.”

He clutched her hand firmly in his eyes guiding her through the steps as Bon Jovi played a la Margo, and TJ and Dez. 

“So with your feet you’re going to step one, step two, yeah, there you go,” Scott encouraged. He may not know what diminished and resolve meant, but play the music and he could move to it. 

“Where’d you learn this?” Ellis asked, purple ponytail brushing her shoulder as he spun her. 

“I did it for a living for a long time,” Scott replied simply, and he dipped her and she laughed. 

“My turn next!” Margo stepped out from behind the keyboard, and the garage became a dance floor as Ellis replaced her on the keyboard (did all musicians know how to play every instrument?) and TJ started an old, slow song Scott didn’t recognize. 

Margo was taller than Ellis, and she was eye level with him as he lead her through the steps. “I’m gonna step on your toes,” she laughed, watching their feet move. “Don’t worry about it,” said Scott, wiggling her arm to get her to look back up, “just feel the music like you normally do.” She smelled like honey and spice again, her body warm. 

She laughed like Ellis had when he dipped her, and TJ whistled, “my turn next,” and the five of them were waltzing and tripping and playing music the rest of the afternoon, munching on white popcorn. 

“Thanks for coming,” said Margo, as she walked him to his car, “It was fun.” 

“Yeah,” replied Scott, hesitating, hand resting on the door of his car, “listen, Margo,” he started, unsure where to start. I don’t want anything, not right now, I’m so tired. Please don’t ask me to love you. 

“Scott,” she cut him off before he could go any further, “I’m not looking for anything right now, okay? I was serious before; I don’t want to sleep with you or anything. I just wanted another friend, and besides; I’m out of this town in two weeks.” 

Scott nodded, “yeah, that’s – okay. Good.” And she grinned. 

_“That’s because you’re not listening to me,” Tessa grumbled, arms crossed around her chest as she turned from him._

_“I am!”_

_“No, you’re not. You’re hearing but you’re not listening.”_

_Scott had half a mind to walk away; he didn’t even know what they’re fighting about anymore. But they had a show tomorrow, and he’d rather not be angry._

_Nicky nicky nine doors, is what Scott said to her._

_She didn’t answer. It terrified him. He hardly spoke to her the rest of the week._  
\-------  
He saw Margo three more times within the next few days; another show, and then once for midnight pizza, and once for a run where they ended up back at his place and watched a movie. It was nice to have another friend, who knew nothing of ice dance, nothing of Tessa, who moved and lived in a completely different world. He never brought up ice dance before; he wasn’t sure why. He had never done that before. 

“Yeah, keep holding that chord,” Margo said, as TJ plucked his guitar. The five of them, plus a new friend of Dez’s, were sitting in TJ’s hotel room. The band was trying to write a new song for their upcoming show in Quebec City. Scott was eating potato chips and scrolling through his phone. 

“Okay, now,” Margo said, “what if,” and she began to sing. 

_I’ve got one million promises to keep_  
But I’ve been keeping them too long  
What I’d like is a little high ground  
Would you take me to higher ground 

“Yes!” Ellis cried, jumping from her chair, “that sounds wicked, do it again!” And this time, TJ played the strings a little harder, and Ellis jumped into harmonize with Margo, and it sounded wonderful. 

Dez scratched out the lyrics on his notebook, and within minutes, they had a fully fledged song. “Wow,” said Margo, beaming, “I think that’s the fastest we’ve ever constructed a song. Scott, you’re our lucky charm.”

“Hear, hear!” Ellis shouted, jumping onto the bed in a Superman pose. Scott raised his bag of chips in salute. “I do what I can,” he said mock seriously, grin twitching at the corner of his mouth. 

Afterwards, he drove her to the ice rink. He had the keys tucked into his pocket. He had wanted a night of skating, and she had showed him so much music; he wanted to return the favour. 

Margo burst out laughing when he pulled up, and he looked at her. “Scott Moir, taking me to an ice rink,” she giggled, hauling herself out of the car, “well, listen, don’t expect any Olympic level skating from me, all right?”

Scott followed her out, surprised. “You know I skate?”

She looked at him for a moment, eyebrow raised, “I’m from Vancouver, Scott. You were all over the city in 2010, obnoxiously so. Also, I looked you up on Instagram.” She shrugged. “I figured if you wanted to bring it up, you would.” And that was that, as Scott skipped behind her on the steps, feeling free. 

Margo wasn’t an awful skater by any means, could stroke fairly fluidly, but she couldn’t go backwards or do a crossover, so that’s what they did for the first half hour, tripping over each other and laughing. 

“How old were you when you started skating?” Margo asked, hands tucked into her pockets as they looped lazily around the ice. 

“Two, but I did hockey before I switched to figure skating,” Scott answered, “and then when I was nine I was paired with Tess.”

“Virtue, right?” Margo clarified and Scott nodded. “Are you still in touch with her?”

“Yeah. She’s in Nepal right now, on a research project.” Margo let out a low whistle. “Impressive,” she said. 

“That’s Tess,” he said simply. 

“And you went to the Olympics three times?” Margo asked, and he nodded again. She took a breath before her next question. 

“Was it worth it?” 

Heartbeat. Scott turned on his blades. He had never been asked that question before; it was implied that of course it was. It was the Olympics. It was winning, it was gold, it was proving to the entire world that you were the absolute best in the entire world. 

And yet, he paused, thinking of the letdown afterwards, of the fighting, of the long, dark months, of feeling lost without one, singular goal. 

“I’m not sure yet,” he answered calmly, “maybe when I’m older I’ll be able to answer properly.” He took a breath. “Winning is everything you think it is. It’s the aftermath that’s harder.”

Margo shook her head. “It’s an insane way to live. I could never do it.”

“How come?”

She weighed her words. “Because the fun of music for me is the process, the building of something, but it’s never done. Its like, take jazz music. It never resolves. It’s not the end that is important, there is no end. It’s like a long, never ending dance.” She trailed off. “I’m sorry, I don’t know if I’m making any sense. My brain doesn’t work in rules and goals. It’s a mess of smudges and colour and words up here, and they fall in a circle and not a line,” she grinned, tapping her index finger to her temple. 

“I like it,” said Scott. 

Afterwards, they headed out to Scott’s place, where they ordered pizza and turned on How I Met Your Mother. Margo sneezed right before the pizza guy knocked on the door, and she turned him with an eyebrow quirked and sassy expression on her mouth, saying, “You gon bless me?” Scott laughed so hard he had trouble paying the poor delivery man. 

“Tell me about Tessa,” Margo said conversationally, after they finished a whole pizza between them. 

Scott turned to her, swallowing the last bite of his pizza. “Why?”

Margo shrugged. “I’m curious.” Her eyes were large and dark, her coffee coloured hand clutching a warm beer bottle. He settled his head back in the pillow. “There’s nothing to tell, really,” he replied. 

“TJ and I have been in an on and off relationship for six years,” Margo said, turning to face the TV again, “and I don’t know how when it’ll ever end. Part of me is afraid it will. Part of me is afraid it won’t.” She paused. “We’re off, currently, in case you couldn’t tell. I needed some space.” 

“That must be hard,” said Scott, “to be near each other and have to work together every day.”

“I’m sure you have an idea,” Margo said, and he snorted. 

“Everyone always said I was afraid to be alone,” said Scott, “and I don’t think I am. I think I’m just afraid to be with her. And I’m afraid to be without her.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what I am. Maybe I am afraid to be alone.”

“Maybe you are,” Margo replied, “in fact, I think most of us are.”

Scott let out a breath. “Yeah,” he considered, “you might be right.” 

Margo grinned, taking a pull from her beer. “I’m a musician. We usually are. Also, we’re doomed for disaster in our love lives, haven’t you heard? We’re right behind ice dancers.” 

Scott let out a loud laugh. 

“I think,” said Margo, weighing her words carefully, “that we all want companionship. I think that’s normal. I think it’s a problem when we start using the other person to fulfill our own needs, like our fear of being alone, when we treat them like a vending machine, and get disappointed when Monopoly money comes out.” 

“You think a lot,” replied Scott, and Margo rolled her eyes. “But I think you’re right.” He paused. “I guess sometimes Tessa was my Monopoly money. And maybe that means I ruined things for a long time. I just – there’s the ten year old kid in me still, always. Who thinks Tessa is the best person ever.” He took a sip from his beer, readjusting on the cushions. “Tessa is special, to me. I don’t know how else to say it.” 

The heart on his sleeve, the one broken and bruised, was offered up in a truce, as Margo softly smiled. “I get it,” she answered, “I mean, it’s a crazy relationship, but I get it.” 

“It’s a crazy world,” replied Scott. 

\--------

Margo left the next day, headed for Quebec. “You’re gonna die of heat,” laughed Scott, her big wool toque covering her entire head. 

“No, I’m not,” said Margo stubbornly, “I’m always freezing. I hate the real Canada. I want to go back to fake Canada.”

“Vancouver will welcome you with open arms when you get back,” Scott said, wrapping his arms around her in the parking lot of her hotel. TJ and Ellis and Dez were slowly making their way out of the hotel, still lingering over breakfast. 

“I’ll miss you, Moir,” smiled Margo, “you made my week great.” She leaned up and kissed him, dry and cool, before flashing him one last smile and slamming the van door behind her. 

\---------

He just liked noise. He liked chaos and fun. He turned the music up when no one was home. He visited his family and spent time with his friends, packing his schedule. He found himself missing Ellis and her hair, Dez and his lack of words, TJ and his plaid shirts. And Margo, and her honey smell and wild laugh. 

So he got a dog. 

He wanted a dog that would grow to be fairly large, a companion that he could take on hikes and trips, so he settled on a husky. He loved her right away, even though the dog peed on the floor and woke him in the middle of the night. 

He took a long time to name her. For a week she was nameless, before he settled on Astra, because she had a pattern on her back that looked a little like a star. Astra became his buddy. Sometimes, she came to the rink with him and the students cooed over her and took pictures for their Snapchats. Sometimes, he went for trail runs with her, music blaring and the trees like shadows, his breath a ghost against the frigid air. 

She was fun, and playful, and it was the best decision Scott had made in a long, long time. On a particularly cold morning during run through the trees, Scott threw himself on a log and Astra came over to kiss his face. 

“You’re a good girl, aren’t you,” Scott said, holding her face in between his hands and pressing his nose to hers, “such a good girl.”

Astra whined and barked in response, and Scott laughed. “Yeah, girl. You are.” 

But he missed Tessa most of all. 

\---------

The months bled on, four months, then five, then six. He knew Tessa was away for six months, but he didn’t know the day she was coming back. He could have just asked his mom, but something stopped him. 

“Damn it,” he muttered angrily one night when his phone slipped into the toilet, teetering off the edge of the counter as he brushed his teeth. He sighed. He’d have to get it replaced tomorrow, maybe after work. 

The next morning, as Astra ran circles around him, he seriously debated calling in sick as he filled his thermos with coffee. He was so tired, and he didn’t feel like skating. But he told himself he could make it through two hours, so he dragged his feet. 

The rink was bitter cold, as usual, and quiet, and usual. He laced his skates in the lobby, putting his guards on and clonking to the ice to do a few laps before everyone got there. The janitor waved to him as he approached the patch of ice. 

Someone was already skating, which was unusual. As he got closer, the figure began to take shape, and he caught his breath in his throat. Tessa was there, skating laps, looking tanned, and he removed his guards quickly before racing towards her faster than he ever had in his life. 

I’m so happy to see you, is what he tried to say as he held her, but she beat him to it, grinning wide, and her words shot straight to his heart on his sleeve because she didn’t say it often. 

“Tell me all about it,” Scott said, her hand firm in his. She seemed different, somehow, besides her darker skin. Her back was straight, eyes confident – he listened intently to everything she was telling him, about Everests, and stars, jungle hikes and mothers. He listened to every word she said, because he didn’t know how not to listen when he hadn’t heard her voice in six months. 

They stopped along the boards, and Tessa grew nervous. She rushed through something, an apology, for hurting him and hurting herself. He told her he was sorry, and he told her he was sorry he treated her like Monopoly money, sometimes. 

“I want to be the safest person you have ever loved,” she whispered in his ear as he held her. His heart cracked. 

“Nicky nicky nine doors,” he said in response, and she smiled wide. 

“Nicky nicky nine doors,” she answered. Steady on, said the heart on his sleeve. 

They skated more laps, and he told her about Margo, and Ellis, and TJ and Dez. She laughed at all the right parts, stroked his arm at all the right parts. He told her about Astra. She smiled at the name, telling him she had a newfound fondness for stars. 

\-------

We’re playing a show near you! Come out tonight, was what his (new) phone buzzed. He grinned, clacking out a response. 

“Tess!” He called up the stairs, “are you free tonight?”

Which was how he and Tessa ended up in the bar where he had come all of those months before, listening to TJ croon and Ellis smash the drums, Margo’s fingers moving smoothly along the keys. 

“I was there when they wrote this song,” he said to Tess. She turned to him, lifting her eyebrows, “that’s so cool.” She smelled like bellini, and like Tessa, perched on her bar stool, black leather jacket over her shoulders. He stood next to her, sipping a beer and waving a hand to Margo when she spotted him. 

He reached over to hug her from behind, and she leaned back. They sang of higher ground, and he sung horribly in her ear, happy she was with him, solid and real under his touch. He twirled her in when TJ began that old George Michael hit, stripped down and sexy. 

Margo came right up to them afterwards, throwing her arms around Scott, and offering her hand for Tessa to shake. Tessa looked so small next to Margo, with her curly hair and loud bracelets. 

“I think Scott is wonderful,” said Margo seriously, to Tessa, “and not because he has lots of Olympic medals. Did he tell you he never brought it up? So humble. Well, not that I’d care, mind you. Just fancy decoration, can’t even take it with you when you’re dead.” She clapped a hand over her mouth when she’d realized what she’d said, but Tessa just laughed. 

“Well,” Tessa answered, “isn’t that the biggest truth of them all.” Margo smiled, relieved, before Tessa commented on how nice her voice was. 

Ellis called them over, telling Tessa she knew how to waltz because of Scott. “Are you his dance partner?” Tessa nodded. “Would you tell me if I’m a good waltzer?” She grabbed Tessa in her arms and began to twirl her around the bar, and Tessa just laughed again, and Scott’s heart jumped right from his sleeve into her hands. 

“I see what you mean,” said Margo to him quietly, “how she is special to you.”

“Waltz with me,” he said to Tessa on their walk home, the streets deserted and dark. She complied, easily, and he spun her around the pavement, under the streetlights, under the stars. 

“You are my favourite dancer,” he said to her quietly. 

“Nicky nicky nine doors,” is what she answered, and she let him all the way in.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you'd like to chat in the reviews, I'd love to hear your thoughts. I wasn't going to write this, but Scott wouldn't let me go. 
> 
> Scott Moir, should you find this, I am borrowing your name and vocation and that's about it.


End file.
